You Better Lose Yourself
by Beyond-BB-Birthday
Summary: I love music, drawing and video games. I have bleach-blonde hair. Oh yeah, one more thing. I'm in love with Kyle Broflovski. But even that's not my biggest problem... K2, Chaptered.
1. Prologue

My name is Kenny McKormick.

I'm seventeen, and in grade eleven.

I'm poor. Bloody poor.

I die almost every week.

I'm easy.

But I don't mind.

Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Craig are my only friends.

I hate dogs.

I'm a good singer.

I hate shop class.

I've been told that I'm hot.

But no one ever compliments me on my personality.

Cartman tried to kill me in seventh grade with a baseball bat.

I've never won a fistfight. But I've been in plenty of them.

My parents hate me.

I hate my parents.

I love music, drawing and video games.

My middle name is Zachary.

I'm in love with Kyle Broflovski.

But I don't consider myself gay. Or bi. Or anything, really.

I hate Lord Of The Rings.

I got Wendy Testaburger pregnant in grade ten.

I protested her abortion. She didn't listen.

My favorite color is _not_ orange. It's purple.

Stan kicked me in the face in grade nine, and I still have the scar.

I love to crossdress. Just not in public.

My dad shot me in the face at age seven. When I came back, he denied it.

I love makeup.

I slept with Eric Cartman.

And I liked it.

My favorite band is Fall Out Boy, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

I hate George Clooney.

My favorite animal is a camel.

I hate blueberries.

The Jonas Brothers make me gag.

I lost my virginity at thirteen.

Stan and Kyle made out in eighth grade on a dare.

We haven't spoken of it to this day.

I sleep with no underwear on.

I was Mysterion.

I have an imaginary friend. His name is Perry.

Kyle Broflovski thinks I'm a hooker.

I _am_ a hooker.

I have bleach-blonde hair.

I love old movies.

I hate roller coasters.

Homemade tattoos are a bad idea.

Before I fell in love with Kyle, I'd never masturbated.

I hate school.

I want to be a doctor.

I'm on the swim team.

I hate Rebecca Cottswalds

She is currently dating Kyle.

Sometimes I wish I were a girl.

I hate pop, rap and hip-hop music.

My favourite class is art, even though I suck at it.

Art is my only class with Kyle.

I love sleeping until noon on weekends.

I love sleeping until noon on week_days_.

I failed grade nine math.

I like Britany Spears and The Dixie Chicks.

Cartman says they made me gay.

I love the number 42.

Craig was my first.

But I wasn't his.

I hate football.

Liane Cartman came on to me last week.

I played the drums in the school band.

Everyone said it was because I couldn't count past four.

Contrary to popular belief, I've never been in an orgy or a threesome.

My brother wants me to die in my sleep, and not come back.

I have blue eyes.

Ike Broflovski has a crush on me. He's in grade seven.

I'm five-foot-seven.

I've read the Bible cover to cover.

And I still go to hell each time I die.

Craig and I are off-and-on dating.

We keep it quiet because he's ashamed of liking me.

I love The Simpsons.

I've never done illegal drugs.

I'm good at sports, even though I'm weak.

There's more to me than sex.

I've been to the emergency room seven times this year.

It's only March.

Kyle hates smokers.

I smoke. But never when Kyle's around.

Stan beat me up last week.

He's going to beat me up tomorrow, too.

And the week after that, as well.

That's just how high school works, apparently.

It's been four days since I've eaten.

I love NeverShoutNever!.

I wish I had Butters' hair.

I cried when Michael Jackson died.

I hate Pop-Tarts and waffles.

I weigh one-hundred-four pounds.

I like poetry.

I have a huge celebrity crush on Billie Joe Armstrong.

I'm allergic to cats.

I've always wanted a tongue piercing.

I tried to pierce my tongue once. It didn't work too well.

The doctor suggests forty milligrams of Prozac per day.

I can't afford it.

When it rains, my walls leak.

I love coffee.

Orange was the last color parka they had. I swear.

I love stripes and winter hats.

I've never actually said 'I love you'.

I hate science class.

I got a ninety in grade ten advanced French.

Stan got a stupid ninety-three.

I have absolutely no regrets.

I don't wear rubber. _Ever_.

And I've never had an STD.

Maybe it's because I want to be a father someday.

But I can't commit to a stable relationship.

I can type a hundred and three words a minute.

I hate vanilla ice cream.

I have my driver's license.

But I don't have a car.

My teachers are always 'disappointed in me'.

I hate food.

And calories.

I had my first kiss with Butters, in fifth grade.

I always hated Terrence and Philip when we were young.

I've broken my nose twice.

And that's pretty much me. Who I am, as Kenny Mckormick.

...

Oh, yeah. One more thing.

I'm anorexic.

* * *

A/N: My newest chaptered story :) This is just the prologue so that's why it's formatted kinda weird, but for regular chapters it will be just like a regular story, no line breaks every three words :D

So what do you think? Love it? Hate it?

This story is about Kenny. All about everything one could know about him and how misunderstood he is as he battles depression, loving someone off-limits and having a serious eating disorder. Based on my story, vaguely. But I'm not a hooker. XD

Innuendo will probably not be seeing the light of an update for quite some time. Just in case anyone reads it.

Title credit to Eminem


	2. 104 lbs

It's insane.

Humans are insane. The things we'll do just to look 'good', to be 'cool', to have 'friends'. Utterly bewildering.

Example number one: I know a girl, who shall remain nameless for the time being, who gets up at five every morning to shower, shave her legs, blow-dry her hair, straighten her hair, do her hair up, put on a pound of makeup and try on a billion different outfits. She wears a rib-crushing extreme push-up bra just to be considered 'average', and she slaps on her toe-breaking high heels just to be of 'average' height. Sounds uncomfortable? Probably is.

Example two of why humans are insane and peer pressure is evil: Me. Proof? This story will be my proof.

It begins early one Thursday morning in my rat-infested basement. I'm upping the speed on my shitty fifty-dollar treadmill I spent weeks saving up for, and I hurry to keep up with the new speed. My heart's racing dangerously, I'm sweating out of every body part imaginable, and my lungs feel like they're about to explode - and I love it. I check the time, and I only have a half hour before the school bus arrives. I force myself to stop.

I shower and blow-dry my hair quickly. I check my weight, dramatically pausing before I look down at the scale. The number is much too high, and I groan, stepping off the scale.

I throw on my stupidly orange parka, some jeans, socks and shoes and sneak out of the house before my parents wake up and make me eat a decent breakfast. Or any breakfast at all for that matter.

At the bus stop, Kyle and Stan are talking about some physics test, past or future I don't know. Cartman is nowhere to be seen, not that I'm surprised. As soon as he got his licence he stopped 'relying on illiterate retards' to get him places. As soon as Stan sees me, he gets really quiet. Ever since I slept with Wendy he's been distancing himself from me - not that I can blame him. It _was_ a pretty shitty thing I pulled. But I digress.

Kyle smiles and gives me a 'hey dude'. I smile at him as well, trying not to stare at the redhead's sparkling smile. And his vibrant orange waves of hair. And his delectable feminine figure, curving at the hips and going right down to his --

"Did you finish that art assignment?" Kyle asks me. I pull myself out of my thoughts and struggle to recall the art assignment Kyle's talking about. Oh, right, the pastel landscape.

"Almost done," I lie. I had barely started. Every spare moment I have is currently reserved for exercise.

Kyle smiled and nodded approvingly, which made me feel kinda bad for lying. Stan gave me a knowing look, which I did my best to ignore. I stopped taking Stan's shit once he started beating me up every time the football team lost a fucking game. Which was a _lot_. Lucky for me, there just happened to be a game tonight. So fuck him.

The bus arrives and we all get on, Stan sitting with Wendy and Kyle with his stupid girlfriend who isn't good enough for him, Rebecca. I say it doesn't bother me, but I actually feel pretty left out. But to be honest, I _always_ feel left out.

* * *

I cringe as the final bell rings, signifying the end of another school day. Craig and I get out of gym class late, because Craig flipped the teacher off, and I did my best to cover for him. After each of us get a lecture, we head to the change room and I do everything I can to get out before the football team returns from their game against Middle Park High. Unfortunately, Craig didn't seem to get the memo.

"Hey, what's the hurry, man?" he asks, having hardly untied his shoes by the time I'm changed and ready to go.

I shrug. "Football team just got back," I said subtly. Craig gave me a look, he never did take a hint well.

"So?"

I sighed. "Nothing, never mind. You coming over tonight?" Craig scowls at me. Oh yeah. I repeat my sentence in a whisper, even though the room is empty except for the two of us. God forbid anyone find out that _Craig_ likes _me._ The earth would surely cave in.

Craig shrugged, obviously still irritated by my 'carelessness'. "I guess."

Before I can reply, I hear footsteps and Token's obnoxious voice, and I can tell that the football team lost badly. Stan pipes up to support whatever Token said as they enter the change room.

Clyde snickers at me. "Look who's here, guys," he mutters. A few guys smirk. Craig looks confused. I'm not sure why, however, because Craig not only _knows_ about my issues with these douchebags, but he used to be one. Guess that's why he shouldn't be friends with me, let alone be banging me.

Just feeling grateful I had enough time to get my clothes on, (being beaten to shit in your underwear just makes it a hundred times worse, trust me), I groan as a big dude holds my wrists behind my back and pushes me forward. Craig looks concerned, but doesn't say anything.

Clyde, in his big, bulky uniform, snarls at me and uppercuts my face. I let my head hang down in embarrassment. My nose is bleeding, but I don't care.

After Stan, Token, Kevin, Clyde a few more thugs hit me in various body parts, they let me go. I guess their egos needed only minimal filling today. Stan gives me a guilty, apologetic look before he leaves, and I nod, understanding his need to fit in, even though I kind of hate him for it.

Craig rushes over to me once the football team had changed and left, standing me up from one of the benches lining the room. "Christ, Kenny..." he says. He grabs a paper towel from the bathroom half of the change room and holds it to my nose until the bleeding stops. We leave the school silently together, and I try to ignore the throbbing pains in my ribs, nose, chin, left eye and right shoulder. Nothing too serious for a change.

We'd missed the bus, and now would have to endure a two-hour walk home. I don't mind, seeing as how walking burns calories, but I know how Craig hates walking long distances. And I'm the one who'll have to hear him bitching about it.

But to my surprise, the usual chatterbox Craig is quiet, and slips his hand into mine as soon as we're across the street from the school - a very uncharacteristic move for him. It's almost as though he's grown a sense of empathy or something...

"What -" I begin. Craig squeezes my hand and tells me to shut up.

The whole two hour walk home neither of us said a word. I was rather bewildered, but I tried not to dwell on it. The only time we broke hands was to light up a smoke. When we finally get home it's five-thirty, and I know my dad will be home from the bar soon.

"You still want to come up?" I ask Craig as we step inside my house and out of the cold. My mom's sitting motionlessly in the living room, staring at the floor. Normally she'd ask us if we wanted a snack, but she stopped a few months ago when I stopped saying 'sure'. That was around the time that I broke my mother's heart by not eating. But I don't like to think about that.

Craig nods, blushing slightly. We head upstairs, but before I can even get up the last step, Craig's deprived mouth is on mine, and there are a million things happening at once.

I immediately think of Kyle's soft Jewish features overtaking Craig's rough face.

Then I feel guilty for thinking of someone else while kissing Craig.

Then I hear the opening of the front door.

Then I realize that my dad is now staring directly at Kyle and I. Erm, _Craig_ and I.

And then finally, I hear my dad yelling obscenities at me. Craig forcefully backs away from me, terrified of my dad. And honestly, I can't blame him.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doin', Kenny?" my dad shouts angrily. He's definitely drunk.

"Christ, dad, calm down!" I yell down to him. Unfortunately, this only makes him more pissed, and he's now stumbling up the stairs, falling almost every step of the way. He's murmuring something about kicking my ass, but I know he won't. He's a good guy deep down inside. But the alcohol sometimes makes him forget that.

When my dad's finally at the top of the steps, he leans over Craig, who's staring at him in sheer terror. "You," he says, staggering. I can smell Jack's on his breath from five feet away. "Yeh keep away from m'boy, faggot," he manages to slur. I try desperately to keep my cool.

"Dad, it's okay," I say through barred teeth. I know, however, that there's no use fighting with someone who's wasted. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

My dad glares at me, but he walks away, muttering under his breath about how 'he didn't raise no queermo.' I ignore it and sigh as soon as he disappears into his room to pass out. Craig just looked at me. I guess even though we've known one another since first grade, he really doesn't know shit about me at all. But then, few people really do.

I groan in exasperation. "Ken, uh, I'm gonna go," Craig says quietly, heading downstairs.

I don't say anything, and simply watch him leave. I've grown numb to this type of situation: somebody realizes I'm hurting, and they just walk away. It happens all too often.

* * *

A/N: Urg, slow start, I know. It'll get better... hopefully :)

REVIEW PEEPS


	3. 102 lbs

Note to self: lack of food equals lack of energy. And a lack of energy plus exercise equals exhaustion.

I had just finished my fifty-meter butterfly when I started to feel like I was going to pass out. I climb out of the pool, using the very last of all the energy my body possesses. I collapse on the deck, and my swim team buddies come over to me. Tweek looks like he's going to scream, and Cartman looks like he could care less.

After sitting up and breathing heavily for a while, Cartman says something about my low economic status having to do with my lack of strength, which I chose to ignore. Tweek helps me up.

"GAH! What's wrong?" Tweek exclaims worriedly. I force a reassuring smile onto my face.

"I'm fine, just tired out is all."

Cartman snorts. "Probably has too many STDs to function properly." Ouch. I glare at the overweight jerk now in line for practice racing. He smirks, clearly proud of himself, though I honestly think he went too far.

Tweek jumps away from me. "Holy Jesus, you have STDs?" he asks in terror. I give him a look.

"No, Cartman's just being an asshole," I inform the shaking blonde with a glare. Tweek curses and jumps again, clearly not believing that I'm not diseased. I don't get why he cares - I've never slept with him anyways.

Cartman's next in line for the two-person trials. This is going to be rich. After all, the only reason Eric joined the swim team was to see girls in bathing suits. The coach blows his whistle and Cartman flops into the pool, racing against Heidi Clemens. Cartman swims hilariously slowly and I laugh at him. He stops halfway through the race to take a breather, due to his 'big bones'. Heidi beats him by about three minutes.

"Before you... say anything..." Cartman says as he climbs out of the pool between gasps. "That Heidi bitch is on fuckin' steroids or some shit." I roll my eyes with a smirk.

I race once more, against Tweek, who kicks my ass. Surprisingly, the kid's good at sports. Fast reflexes, and good under pressure. His winning was also aided by the fact that my breakfast this morning was a diet pill and a stick of peppermint gum. Only five calories.

The coach blows his whistle again, and we all go to get changed to make it to school on time. Morning swim practice equals hell. Sleep-deprived hell.

After ten minutes of kissing up to Cartman, he agrees to give me a ride to school.

The entire ride, Cartman blabbers on about how poor I am, how much of a whore I am and the like. I almost wish I'd walked to school, but at this point I'm afraid I'd run out of energy.

Cartman drops me off about a block away from the school, claiming he can't be seen with me in _his_ car. I roll my eyes and make the two-minute walk to the school. I bite my lip when I see a black-haired male waiting for me in front of the school.

Ever since my dad spazzed out at Craig, I figured we were off again. It had been three days that he'd been avoiding me, but I guess he was just a little freaked out. I waved at him from a few yards away. He didn't wave back.

"What's up?" I ask. Craig shrugs. I give him a look, but he doesn't say anything. The bell for first period rings, but neither of us move. Attending class had never been high on either of our priority lists, but I wasn't too crazy about skipping art with Kyle Broflovski all to myself just to put up with Craig's bullshit.

Craig sighs and heads into the school. I follow him, about to ask what his problem is. But he heads right for the boys' bathroom, and I already know.

In a matter of seconds he's got me up against the bathroom wall, I'm hard as hell, Craig's tongue is down my throat and his hands at my crotch. "So," I say casually when he finally calms down. "You're not mad anymore?"

Craig looks up. "I wasn't mad," he says. His bony fingers slide up my fat, disgusting torso, under my shirt. "I was just... scared for you," he mutters. "I don't know. Sorry," he adds. I feel ashamed and exposed when he removes my shirt. I suck in, hoping to delude both of us into thinking that I'm skinny.

"Have you lost weight?" he asks without looking up. I swallow, shrugging.

"W-why?"

Craig shrugged, not making it a big deal. He simply continues doing talented things with his tongue and moving his way downward.

* * *

I walk into art class thirty minutes later, surely reeking of smoke and sex. I plop down in my usual spot next to Kyle, moping rather prominently, having just been brutally dumped. Not that it wasn't my fault.

"Why so late, Ken? Sleep in again?" Kyle asks cheerfully, with a bright giggle that only Kyle could make. I smile despite my nasty breakup only minutes previously. Everyone's right. I am a whore.

"Yeah, just... running late this morning," I lie. Kyle's known me for my whole life, though, and he knows I'm lying. He slides his drawings away and looks at me with concern.

"What's up, Kenny?" he asks. I cough and tell him 'nothing,' which he continues not to buy. "You know you can trust me," he says earnestly.

I sigh, knowing I'll regret telling Kyle, but I love him too much to keep lying to him. "Well, Craig sorta dumped me this morning." Kyle widens his eyes slowly.

"Y-you never told me you were going out with Craig," Kyle chokes out.

I clear my throat. "Yeah, I know, sorry about that." Kyle just nods.

"So, uh, why'd he break up with you?" Kyle asks uncomfortably. I pause. _Well I was just in the middle of being screwed into the bathroom wall and I said your name rather loudly._I know I can't tell him the truth, but I also don't want to lie to him _again_. Kyle just shakes his head. "Never mind, you don't have to tell me. It's your business."

"Thanks," I say quietly. Kyle smiles comfortingly and puts his hand over my own. My heart races.

"If you want to talk about it..." I nod once, and Kyle returns to his art project.

A class of watching a delicate redhead paint in carefully formed strokes ended much too soon. Then I go off to philosophy and Kyle goes off to physics. I sit drearily through a boring class of lecturing, and jump up excitedly when the lunch bell rings.

Then Kyle ditches me for Rebecca, Stan ditches me for Wendy, Cartman ditches me to try and get laid, and I sit alone for the lunch hour in the bathroom crying.

I sleep through math and skip gym class because Craig might be there. Pathetic, I know. The whole afternoon I think about everything anyone's ever told me. My father told me this morning that I'd never amount to anything. Cartman told me last week that I could drop dead and no one would care. And Craig told me during first period art that I was a whore, and that he was a retard for dating me.

And my stomach growls and my head pounds and my muscles are so weak and everyone's right. I'm nothing, I'm a whore, I'm worthless. I'm so fat but I can't move, and I need to eat, but I just can't. I just can't and I'm so lonely and I don't want to be a whore anymore.

I'm sweating, but I try to keep as calm as possible as I leave early. Instead of catching the bus back to stupid South Park where all my stupid 'friends' live, I head down the road to Colfax Point. It's not like I couldn't use some dough, and to be honest? These guys don't mind if I call them Kyle.

I sit in my usual alleyway until the sun sets, and eventually a random picks me up.

"Thirty for a lay," I reply to him. I'm so tired. But I just need to be out of it, and I don't have the perpetual cash flow to get into drugs and shit. So this is all I have.

I get into this complete stranger's car, and I forget everything. It's just false pleasure and reassurance. I've got no fucking control. My friends, my grades, my parents. All I can control is this. This and my empty stomach. And for now, it's enough.

But it won't be enough forever.


	4. 101 lbs

I'm staring at the offending carrot stick, and it sucks, but I choke it down. Stress makes me eat. And unfortunately, stress can be difficult to keep under control.

I plug my nose and chew the last carrot stick of four, and I feel like throwing up. I rinse out my mouth with a cheap beer and lie down. I hate myself for a little while before I finally get numbed enough by the beer to forget everything. I forget Craig, and Kyle and my weight and everything and I just lay there.

But the buzz wears off eventually and I'm too tired to go get another beer. It's the middle of the day, on a weekend no less, but I feel like I could pass out any second from either fatigue or hunger. I ring Craig again. He continues not to answer his cell, which I don't really blame him for. It's not like I really want to get back with the guy, but the guilt has been eating away at me for the last three days.

So Craig doesn't pick up. I text him instead, leaving yet another 'please talk to me babe' on his phone before drifting off. Maybe a dreamless sleep isn't all that great, but most of the time, it's better than being awake.

I wake up just minutes later, jumping into the air off my couch to the sound of my phone ringing right in my ear. I sit up and slide the damn thing open, grabbing my half-empty beer along the way.

"Hello?"

"Kenny."

"Craig."

I sat there for a moment in silence as Craig spoke. I sipped on my beer and actually listened for once.

"You know what? You have your problems, but I can't help every fucking person I know with their issues, you got that? Everyone's got shit like you do, Ken, okay?" I said okay. He seemed to calm down a bit. "Sorry... we're both stressed out a lot..."

I set down my illegally-alcoholic drink and played with my hair absently. I almost didn't notice when Craig's voice got a lot more quiet and his tone got a lot more serious. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna let you walk all over me, dude. You obviously have a thing for... for _him_."

"Kyle?"

Craig coughed. "Yeah. And... I kinda, uh, I guess I like you."

I stopped playing with my hair and sat up in surprise. Craig's never said anything like that. _Ever. "_What? I-I thought..."

"Kenny, I'm sorry... forget I said anything," Craig murmured. Great, now I feel bad.

"Christ, Craig..." I ran my fingers through my messy hair and looked for the words to let him down easy. "Look, I'm real sorry, but I don't really see you as more than just a friend with benefits kinda thing, you know?" I said. "I thought we both felt the same way," I added quietly. I could feel the carrot sticks jumping around in my stomach.

Dial tone. Shit.

I sigh and sit up, feeling like a shitbag. I try calling him back, but as I expected, he doesn't pick up. I try Kyle instead, desperately needing to get my mind off of everything.

"Hello?" Kyle says.

"It's Kenny," I say quickly. "Wanna hang out? I... I don't want to be alone right now, dude." I can't believe that I have to hold back tears. I never had feelings for Craig in the first place. So why do I feel so terrible?

I hear the tapping of Kyle's keyboard before he says, "Sure, Ken, come on over. You don't sound so good, man." I thanked the Jew and hung up, finishing off my beer and stepping outside into the freezing cold outdoors of South Park.

Three minutes later I ring Kyle's doorbell, put out my cigarette and dust the snow out of my hair. The door opens, and I look up from my shoes, right into Kyle's gorgeous green irises. "Hey," I say calmly.

Kyle gives me a small smile and lets me in. His house has that nice Broflovski smell I've known since kindergarten, and I breathe it in deeply. It's a mixture between scented candles and cookies, due to Kyle's mother's love of baking.

"So what's wrong?" Kyle asks me as we head upstairs to his room.

I shrug. "Same old, same old." Kyle nods, not fully listening. We enter his bedroom, and Kyle heads for his computer. I look at the screen over his shoulder and notice he's in a conversation with Rebecca. My heart sinks a bit, wishing I could have Kyle to myself for once, but I don't say anything as Kyle types out a message.

"What's up? How was that physics test you had the other day?" I asked, trying to get the redhead's attention.

Kyle shrugs. "It was okay. I didn't really study, though." I nod, glancing at the computer screen again and sighed discreetly. My stomach groans loudly and Kyle looks over to me. "Hungry?" he asks. I shake my head 'no' immediately. Kyle raises an eyebrow at me and says "You sure? We have some leftover pizza downstairs if you want."

I shake my head again. "I'm fine," I insist quietly. Like I need _more_ food.

Eventually Kyle shuts off his computer and we proceed to play Street Fighter for a while.

But then Rebecca calls, and Kyle pauses the game to talk to her. I sigh, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets. Fifteen minutes later of me laying on Kyle's bedroom floor and I've had enough. I stand up and head for the door. "I'll see you later, dude," I murmur. Kyle doesn't even notice as I leave.

I light up a cigarette as soon as I step outside, and ponder what I'm to do now. I could go back home... but my dad's probably home by now. I could try Craig's place, but I doubt he'd let me in.

I decide to try Butters' place. He's cool to hang with, but our personalities clash quite a bit. Example A: I come on to him, and he thinks I'm just 'confused'. But I start down the road towards the kid's place anyways.

A few moments later, I hear a sound. It almost sounds like... someone laying on their horn. I curse and whip my head around just in time to see a large truck swerving out of control on the icy road. It rolls over and I scream as it crushes me flat, and I know I'm dead again.

Dammit.

A/N: Sorry for a slow update... review anyways? :3 


	5. 98 lbs

I wake up slowly, my head pounding and my body sore everywhere. But I'm back from Hell, at least. I doubt anyone even noticed I had died.

I pop a few Advil into my mouth and glance at the clock on my bedside table. Almost noon. On a school day. Great.

After shoving my feet into some holey socks and shoes I grab my backpack and hurry to school, trying to invent some sort of excuse other than spontaneous death for my lateness. As I enter the high school a few moments later, I decide upon using 'there was a power outage so my alarm didn't go off'. Rather professional if I do say so myself.

My stomach grumbles as I head to my locker and grab my stuff. I sigh, because I know there's an apple in my backpack, and I know I'm going to eat it. I pile my Philosophy books into my backpack as I try desperately not to cave in. I close my locker door and stare at my open bag on the floor.

And then I give up, scavenging the apple from my backpack and biting into it forcefully. Somehow, tears spill from my eyes as I finish off the hunk of calories. I dry my face, feeling like a total dope.

I scoop up my bag and head for my Philosophy class, praying for my eyes not to be red and puffy. My stomach growls once more, and I feel like throwing up - anything to keep from gaining weight.

Craig's frown and scowl greet me in second period, quickly followed by those of the teacher's. I try to convince him that there was a power outage, but he knows me all too well, and tells me sternly to take a seat and be quiet.

I do as instructed, sitting in my usual seat next to the black-haired male who currently hates my guts. I rip a piece of paper out of my binder and hurriedly scribble a note of apology to Craig, considering he was no longer returning my texts or calls.

When I slide it over to him, he sighs, reading my very heartfelt apology I'd somehow pulled out of my ass. He writes something below my message and returns it to me.

'_Don't apologize, okay? It's not your fault I'm a fucking loser.'_

I groan and try to reason with the kid. '_You're not a loser. It's my fault, I shouldn't have lead you on.' _

_'Lead me on? To what, that you felt the same as I do? That you were really just using me to get off, thinking about Kyle? Yeah, that would've been nice. Luckily you won't have to worry much more.'_

I raise an eyebrow wearily. '_What do you mean...?'_

Craig gives me a look, scribbling his chicken-scratch in anger. '_Haven't you heard? Kyle and Rebecca broke up last night, the whole fucking school knows! Pretty nasty break up, but I guess that's just better for you, huh?'_

I stare at the page for a full minute. Though Craig's giving me a pretty hard time and I should try harder to calm him down, the second the bell for lunch sounds, I bolt out of the classroom and sprint down the hallway to Kyle's locker.

I lean against his locker door, trying to look cool; I suck in my fat and smile as he approaches. He frowns and tells me sternly to get out of his way. "Hey, Ky," I say, mustering up my best 'sexy' voice.

Kyle glares a glare that was so glaring that Satan himself would marvel at Kyle's glaring abilities. "Shut up, Kenny, I'm not in the goddamn mood," he says. I back off, putting my hands up defensively. Being very experienced in the dating world, my mind subconsciously calculates that Kyle should be back in the game in under a week at this rate. He'd already passed the first stage, denial, and was now almost through the second, anger.

"You want to talk about it, Kyle?" I ask cautiously, hoping he'll move on to the 'bargaining' stage asap. He sighs and shakes his head as he gathers up his things and closes his locker.

"Unless you can get Rebecca back for me, there's nothing anyone can do."

I raise an eyebrow. I'm surprised he's so attached to her - he hadn't even gotten to second base.

I say nothing as Kyle walks away to go study in the library with Stan and Wendy, and I'm left to consider my lunch options. Option A: follow Craig around and try to get him to talk to me again. Option B: attempt to study with Kyle, and do my best to ignore Stan insulting me. Option C: Throw up and cry in the bathroom.

I sigh, taking the third option, deeply hating myself.

* * *

I rush to dry my hair out under the hand dryer, towel around my waist and flip flops on, despite the snow outside.

Tweek is ranting to me about the gnomes following him to school this morning, which I do my best to ignore. Cartman's standing beside me, stark naked and combing his hair in the bathroom mirror. Oh how I _love_ swim practice.

We get changed quickly and I grab my bag, heading outside. I immediately light up a cigarette and Tweek does the same. Cartman coughs obviously and makes a comment about us giving him cancer. I continue to ignore him as I head for the bus stop, Tweek and Cartman following me.

We wait in comfortable silence for ten minutes until the number nine comes and they shuffle into the vehicle. Tweek asks if I'm coming, but I say 'no, I'm going up to Colfax Point for the night'. He knows what that means and he shuts up.

True to my word, I silently board the next bus, the twelve. I get off at my usual stop and head for my usual corner.

My stomach growls, and I can barely stand the goddamn hunger, and I hate myself so much, and I'm touching some random dude, and everything is a blur of self-hatred and pain and tears between clients.

In my haze I almost failed to notice the new client... but... what's he doing? I try to speak but I can't make myself talk, and the _pain_, oh _God_, and I can't see, and I feel a foot in my stomach but it's nothing compared to the hunger, and I hear the cock of a gun, and I somehow manage to empty my pockets though I'm fucking _blind_, and WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?

I pass out, and wake a up a few hours later, head cleared, vision intact, money gone and skin slick with sweat. I pant heavily in anxiety, standing up slowly and carefully.

I wasn't raped, just robbed. I got lucky.

For once, being fat paid off.


	6. 96 lbs

As if some random guy beating the shit out of me and robbing me in the middle of the night wasn't enough, the next day, Stan and his goons greet me in the change room after a home game.

They leave me groaning in pain on the change room bench, and all I can say is that this is getting old. Since Craig isn't here to help me up, I stay seated for a few more minutes, trying to clear my head.

Eventually, I muster up the strength and stand up, heading outside to catch the bus. I almost miss it, but I run after it for a few feet before the driver sees me and lets me on. "Thanks," I mutter, handing the guy a bus ticket and walking to the back of the bus.

Suddenly, a hand is on my arm, and I jump, jerking away. Memories of last night fill my mind, but I force them away. "Kenny?" It was just Kyle. My face lights up and I give the redhead a small smile, taking the empty bus seat next to him.

"Hey," I say quietly. Kyle looks at me oddly, worriedly.

"You look like shit." He says it plainly. I chuckle and nod, saying that 'I know'. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked. I stared out the window as the bus flew past the houses and small businesses of South Park. I shook my head no.

"You don't want to hear me whine. How are you doing?" I ask. "Still upset about Rebecca?"

Kyle shrugs. "Not really. She was kind of a bitch, anyways." I smile.

"That's good. You deserve better." Kyle smiles and thanks me. I bite my lip and look away. _He does deserve better... better than me._ I sigh.

All thoughts of my inferiority to my best friend disappear when Kyle puts his hand on my leg, and my mind is suddenly moving at a hundred miles a second. I look over at him, and he blushes, moving his hand and looking out the window. I blush too as I grab his hand back and replace it in its original position on my thigh. He gives me a shy smile and leans his head on my shoulder.

The bus approaches my house first, and I shift uncomfortably. "Hey, Ky," I say quietly. Kyle sits up. "You want to come over?"

Kyle bites his lip. "I-I'm sorry, Kenny, I have to watch Ike tonight," he lies. I know he's lying - I've known him since kindergarten, and I know that when he lies, Kyle tenses up, which he is. But I just nod and say goodbye as I get off the bus.

I sit down on the curb outside my house and light up a cigarette. I just breathe in the poison and forget about everything - about last night, about Kyle, about Craig, about _everything_. But then my brother opens the front door.

"Hey, you washed up shitbag, dinner's ready!" Kevin shouts at me, slamming the door as he goes back inside.

"Love you too, Kev," I murmur.

I put out my cigarette and head inside to have another fight with my mother over my eating habits. Or lack thereof. When I get inside, my dad's not home (as usual), and my mom is sitting with Kevin at the table smiling like I'm going to walk in there and eat five pop-tarts just like Kev would. I stop at the door frame.

"I'm not really hungry." I don't know why I bother lying anymore. It's an insult to my family's intelligence, really. My mother's face goes pale and her smile is wiped off her face, and I am the world's worst son.

"Kenny," she begins. I close my eyes so I don't have to watch my mother's heart breaking even further. "Please, just eat _something_," she begs me. Kevin looks up as my mom starts to cry and she says, "What did I do wrong, Lord?" and I can't stand to watch as my brother comforts her and flips me off.

I run up to the bathroom and I'm on the floor in tears. This thing, it's ruining me. It's ruining everything. But then I'm at the toilet and my finger is down my throat the very little I'd consumed in the last two days comes up and my mother's cries echo through the walls and all I want to do is be thin. All I want is to be good enough for him.

* * *

Stan stands in front of me, and I expect him to start beating me to a pulp for no reason any second.

"Kenny, we gotta talk, bro."

'Bro'? Is he kidding me? We haven't been 'bros' since ninth grade. But I simply say "Sure, man, what's up?"

Stan sits down next to me on the change room bench and gives me a serious look. "Kyle's really broken up about him and Rebecca," he says. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"That's weird, 'cause Kyle told _me_ the exact opposite," I say, mustering up all the sarcasm in my soul. It goes over the jock's head, not to my surprise whatsoever. "He told me he was fine." Stan clears his throat.

He says, "Well, he was just trying to seem like he's got everything under control, Ken. But he doesn't." I sigh, getting ready for another bout of bullshit from the Bullshit Master. "He's really sad, okay? He doesn't need guys like you trying to hook up with him right now." He emphasizes 'guys like you'.

So this is what this is all about. I scowl, and my whole body is flush with anger. "Fuck you, Stan. Just fuck you," I say in frustration. I stand up and try to leave, but Stan puts a hand on my shoulder and I stop. Stan steps in front of me.

"Kenny, Kyle's my best friend, and you... well," he pauses and for a moment I actually thought I saw a hint of empathy or compassion in his eyes. "You're a whore." Guess I was wrong. "Kyle doesn't need your perverted shit right now!" I slap him.

Stan steps back and stares at me with wide eyes and puts a hand to his face where I slapped him. "You know what, Stan?" I ask him. "You don't know shit. You don't know what I go through every fucking day, alright? I'm so fucking in love with him, you just don't have a fucking clue what I do for him!"

I stop there, realizing what I just said. Stan stared at me in shock.

"You..." I take a deep breath and nod.

"I'm in love with Kyle Broflovski." I state it clear as day and leave the black-haired douchebag in the change room alone. For the first time since I started starving myself, I feel amazing. I feel... worth something for a change.

* * *

A/N: Two more chapters + Epilogue. Reviews make me happy :D


	7. 95 lbs

I can't believe that for the first time in my life, I admitted that I am in love. I cock my head up to the sky and feel the rain pour down on me, and I know that it's true. The ash on the tip of my cigarette collapses and falls onto my shoe. I shake it off and breathe in the poisonous fumes.

And then, my hands join. My fingers lace themselves together. And then, for the first time since I was ten, I prayed.

"Lord, give me the will..." I mutter around my smoke. "Give me the will to eat. I don't want to be thin anymore."

* * *

The next morning in art, I feel refreshed. I feel... incredible. _Human_. Perhaps it had something to do with the half a pop tart's presence in my stomach. And for the first time in a year, it didn't feel sickening.

"Hey, Kyle," I say cheerfully as I take my usual seat across from the redhead. "What's up?"

Kyle looks at me with a look I can honestly say I'd never seen him wear before. It's a look of pain, confusion and disbelief all rolled into one. I immediately know that Stan must've told him something about the day before. My 'refreshed' feeling is now 'revolted'.

"K-Kyle?"

Kyle bites his lip and continues to stare at me silently. I frown.

"Kyle, what's your problem?" I ask with growing frustration.

Finally, Kyle speaks up. His voice cracks. "Stan told me... Kenny..." Kyle stops and looks away, his eyes welled up with tears. The teacher is blabbering on about something, but Kyle interrupts him by standing up abruptly and fleeing from the room, leaving his things. The entire class is staring at me. I grab both of our bags and bolt as well, ignoring the teacher's threats of a call to the principal should I leave.

Luckily, Kyle is sitting just outside the room. Unluckily, he is in tears and his face is buried in his hands. "Kyle, what did Stan tell you?" I ask worriedly. I sit down next to Kyle and place our bags beside me.

Kyle looks up and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "You... you fucking dick..." he murmurs almost silently. I frown. "You... you convinced Becca to break up with me." It's not a question, but a statement.

I sigh. "No I didn't. Stan's just trying to get you to hate me." Kyle rolls his eyes and avoids eye contact with me.

"Is that so?" he grumbles. "And why would he do that?"

"I don't know, the guy is fucked in the head, okay?" I say a little louder than necessary.

Kyle scowls. "Maybe you're the one who's fucked in the head!" he argues, his voice still low and sounds more calm than he really is. "Stan told me every single thing you told him, okay? He told me all about your fucking hard-on for me. You convinced my girlfriend to leave me just because you want in my pants, right? You told Stan everything, and he told _me_ everything. So just stop playing dumb," he said quietly. I saw true pain in his eyes. I wonder if he saw the same in mine.

"Kyle, you've got to believe me, I didn't say any of that! And I certainly didn't get Rebecca to leave you. Stan's full of shit!" I try to tell him, but Kyle won't hear it. He stands up, grabs his bag and starts down the hallway. I stand up as well and follow him. "Ky, please, believe me!"

"Kenny, just shut up!"

I scowl in frustration. "Kyle, the only reason Stan said that I said those things is because..." Kyle turns around and gives me a very sad look.

"Yes? I'm listening."

'_Because I'm in love with you, and Stan thinks I'm a whore and that you're too good for a guy like me.'_ I sigh. That would make me sound arrogant. Plus, it's true. I am a whore, and Kyle _is_ too good for a guy like me.

"Because..." My heart pounds in my ears. I look away from him. "Kyle, please, I can't - "

"I knew it, you're so full of it!" Kyle interrupted, turning away again and continuing down the hallway. I groaned and hurried after him.

"You don't understand," I said in frustration. "I would never do something like that, Kyle," I say solemnly. Kyle ignored me and left the corridor.

* * *

I feel the tears pouring as soon as Kyle leaves, and I sprint to the nearest bathroom. I drop my bag on the floor of the closest stall and close the door behind me. I collapse against the wall and proceed to sob very loudly. I don't stop as I sink to the floor and put my head in my hands.

When I gather myself together, my stomach grumbles, and I am instantly reminded of the pop tart in my stomach. I glance down to the toilet in the stall, and run my hand through my hair in exasperation.

"_Purge._"

"_Don't purge."_

_"Purge."_

_"Don't purge."_

As my mind debates itself, I remember my mother's sad eyes a few nights ago after refusing to eat dinner. And then my mother's huge grin this morning as I ate.

"_Purge._"

"_Don't purge."_

_"Purge."_

_"Don't purge."_

I breathe in deeply, and go through my pockets, retrieving a hair elastic. I tie back my hair and bend down over the cool, white porcelain. I hold my breath as I clench a fist, and slowly raise one shaking finger, my index finger. It slides across my tongue, and down my throat.

At that exact moment, the bell rings, and kids flood into the bathroom. I wait patiently for all of them to exit. They clear out in about three minutes' time, after which, I continue my aformentioned task.

I wretch a few times before finally riding myself of the fat that had accumulated in my stomach in the last few days. I spit, cough, spit, flush. I take a moment to breathe before gathering my things and heading out to the sink to rinse my mouth.

I'm stopped when I walk directly into Craig.

He looks at me sadly and gives me a hug. "Kenny..." he mutters. My heart pounds, and my mind is racing and I can't believe I'm not _screaming_. Because my secret is gone. Craig has found me out, and he's going to tell everyone about how _weak_ I am, and -

"Kenny, please stop," Craig says as he releases me from his tight grasp. "I... I knew something was wrong, I just knew it." His face turns very serious. "But I just ignored it..."

I couldn't speak. I avoid Craig's dark eyes as I head to the nearest sink. I gulp down a bunch of water before turning around to face him. The one who destroyed my best-kept secret I'd ever had.

"C-Craig, it's not what you think, kay? I was just -"

Craig interrupts me: "Kenny, don't." He simply shakes his head. "You have a problem, and you need help!" I frown and try to leave without further guilt. "Kenny -"

"Look, Craig," I push past him with all the strength left in me. "It's none of your business. I need to be thin, alright? End of story."

Craig lets me go.

I groaned as I walked down the almost-empty hallway, because I know that the story is actually far from over.

* * *

A/N: Bad chapter is bad. Review anyways?


	8. 92 lbs

I glance at my watch without missing a step on the treadmill. I groan and power it off, grabbing my things for swim practice, struggling for breath after a harsh workout on no food, with bruises all over my body. I slip into my holey shoes and grab my jacket, pausing to glance at myself in the hallway mirror. I sigh and continue out the door.

I almost miss the number four bus to the pool, but sprint down the street just in time to catch it. I begin to regret running as I take a seat on the almost-empty bus.

There's this homeless-looking dude staring at me with one eye, and it kinda creeps me out, but I try to ignore him. He gives me a creepy smile, to which I smile back awkwardly.

I get off once the bus pulls up shakily to the curb beside the pool, I force my legs to carry me up the slight hill to the building, head pounding and stomach groaning desperately. The secretary at the pool smiles and waves shyly, and I smile back fakely. Seems like I'm fake most of the time nowadays.

Cartman greets me in the change room with a 'hey poorboy', and Tweek screeches hello. Cartman leans against a wall, already clad in a swimsuit, clearly waiting for me. I swallow and look away from him as I remove my clothing, stripping down to my swim trunks. Cartman and Tweek try to look away from my dilapidated body uncomfortably as we head out to the pool.

As Cartman leaves us to try and hit on a bikini-clad Heidi, Tweek pulls me aside. "Uh, K-Kenny, I..." he begins anxiously, trembling. "Craig told me - GAH - he told me that you have an... eating disorder! That's not true though, right? And GOD, what happened to you, you're all bruised! Did you die again?" he asks quickly, eyes growing wide as he scans my body worriedly, pulling at his hair in terror.

I cough and look away, blushing furiously, tears burning in my eyes. "Uhm," I murmur, my mind racing. Tweek raises an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, I... I'm sick." I choke out. I was about sixty percent embarrassed, thirty-five percent proud of myself for admitting this, and five percent terrified someone would overhear. "And, uh, I didn't die, actually... my dad - um - beat me up."

Tweek stares at me, completely still and silent for once. "Oh."

The blonde glances at the deck for a moment before looking back up, and biting his lip. It's only when the coach blows his whistle and tells us to get in the pool that Tweek walks away, obviously wondering what, if anything, he should say.

I get in the pool and immediately get my face wet so no one would tell when I begin to cry.

* * *

"Alright, you stupid little bastards," the gym teacher addresses us in his usual fashion. "Listen up!" Everyone continues talking, until the teacher blows his whistle directly in Clyde Donovan's ear, at which point he promptly shuts up, along with the rest of the jocks in this hell of a class.

As the teacher assigns teams for soccer, I glance around. Upon realizing his absence, I wonder where Craig is. He hardly ever skips, and I'd seen him earlier today in Philosophy. _"He's probably off telling more people things they don't need to know,"_ I think scornfully.

"Hey, whorebag, get your ass over here!" someone calls me, shaking me out of my thoughts, back to the task at hand: trying not to embarrass myself playing soccer. I hurry over to my team just in time for them to assign me the role of center forward, on the grounds that, that is my position in hockey. Center forward means a _lot_ of running.

While I usually enjoy excersize, I don't enjoy blowing out my lungs. But, having no choice in the matter, I take the position and wait for someone to pass to me, hoping dearly that they didn't.

Token, the forward wing, eventually becomes confined by the other team's defense, and passes to me. I stop the pass with my left foot, kicking it forward. The other team's defense gets the ball from me, and I attempt to get it back, due to my entire team cursing at me and telling me how much I suck.

I stick my foot in front of Kevin, kicking the ball to Token. I stand there like a retard at that point, being proud of myself for getting the ball.

"Run, you dumb fuck!" someone screams. I realize that Token was in need of a pass, so I muster up all my remaining energy and sprint down the field after the play.

As I approached the ball's location, my vision became spotty, to the point where I could barely see. Still, not being able to stand people yelling at me and hating me, I keep running.

I guess excersizing day in and day out, having no food and being beaten to a bloody pulp on a regular basis can catch up with you. This was all I could figure as I collapsed to the grass, blacking out quickly. As I slip into unconsciousness, I hear Clyde say, "Pussy. Can't even handle a simple soccer game. Pathetic."

Pathetic. Definitely.

* * *

I wake up in a hospital bed, which I identify immediately as I come to. There's a black-haired figure standing right above my face. I open my eyes fully and, to my surprise, it isn't Craig or Stan standing above me. It's Ike.

"Hey, Kenny's waking up!" he announces. I sit up to see Kyle, asleep in a plastic chair across the room. Kyle stirs at the sound of his brother's voice and comes over, a look of relief on his face.

"Hey," he says quietly. I just swallow as the redhead sits down beside me and places his hand on mine, stroking my skin with his thumb. "How are you doing?" the Jew asks in concern.

I shrug. "I'm okay I guess. What time is it?"

Ike says, "Quarter after nine."

I yawn and push my hair out of my face, not remembering a thing about my being hospitalized. "What happened?" I asked simply. Kyle bites his lip. "Did I die again?" He shakes his head 'no' and looks at his brother.

"Ike, why don't you go to the cafeteria? Bring me a Sprite, okay?" Kyle says, handing Ike a five-dollar bill as the young man nods and leaves. I gave Kyle a look. "Kenny," he says quietly, placing a hand to my cheek. His touch is warm, and I lean into him as tears begin to spill from his eyes. I look away in guilt, memories flooding back to me.

"Craig and Stan told me everything." I nod once. "I'm so sorry, Kenny, I - I didn't know you were sick. And... I didn't know that you really, um, loved me," he adds, blushing and averting his gaze from mine.

I sigh and lay down. "God, Kyle, I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to know any of this, you're probably just disgusted, and weirded out, and I'm such a _fucking_ loser, and -"

And his lips are on mine. I'm too paralyzed to move, so Kyle moves away quickly. "Jesus Christ, Kenny, I can't believe after everything I've heard, you still think you're a loser. You have an eating disorder, it's not your fault." I just shake my head. "It's not your fault, Kenny," he says again, kissing me again, deeper and longer than before. And this time, I kiss him back.

Kyle says, pulling away slightly. "And I love you, too."

I beam. Kyle blushes and grins. For the first time in my life, I feel wanted. Alive. _Human_. "Really?"

The Jew nods and says, "I just hope you can get better, Kenny."

"What if I can't?" I ask, placing a hand over my face in exasperation. "I've tried so hard already."

Kyle took my hand off of my face and held it. "I'll help you. It'll be okay," he says comfortingly, pulling me into a tight hug.

Ike reenters the room a few minutes later, handing Kyle his Sprite and one of three cookies. He gives me one as well, and proceeds to inhale one himself. Kyle looks at me with worry. I stare at the cookie for a very long time, during which time Kyle scolds Ike for making me 'uncomfortable', and Ike argues that he was trying to be nice in getting me a cookie.

Kyle stops short when he hears me nibble into the cookie, and stares as I consume the entire thing.

Sorry for long update! R&R :) 


	9. Epilogue: 99 lbs

Two weeks after getting out of the hospital, I became employed at a local grocery store, earing even more than I did hooking. A month after getting a real job, I was legally emancipated from my parents.

Yesterday, Kyle and I double-dated with Craig, and his new girlfriend Bebe, who he is apparently very much in love with.

Stan and I still don't get along too well, but for Kyle's sake, we've begun to hang out more.

At this time, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you, my friend. I am about to participate in a State Champion Hot-dog Eating Contest.

So here is where the story ends: I turned my life around in less than a year. I'm seventeen, I have a stable job and a loving boyfriend, and my own apartment, and I'm seeing a psychiatrist regularly for the eating disorder I can confidently say I am over.

It was hard, but I did it. I guess to really appreciate what you've got, you have to lose yourself in misery first. And now that I have, I know I never will again.

FIN

* * *

Stay tuned for the upcoming sequel, 'You Better Never Let it Go', told from Kyle's point of view a few years later. Thanks to all who read and/or reviewed and supported :D BYES!


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